Mrs Gardiner came near. “Did you choose one, my dear?”
“Yes,” she said firmly, pointing to the description. “I will ask my uncle to arrange it, and I will show you all that it is a reputable enterprise that can unite like-minded people.” Elizabeth’s enthusiasm fell. “Although if this young man does not also choose to write to me, I must select another one.”
“Every man who reads the list would choose you,” said Jane, putting an arm around her.
“You forget my history with young men as of late.” Elizabeth smiled sadly. “Wickham did not because he could not afford to, and Mr Collins only did because I was present, not for my good qualities.” Her sister and aunt were giving her sympathetic looks, so she added brightly, “And Mr Darcy never would choose me because I am only tolerably pretty.”
Mrs Gardiner squeezed her shoulder. “Well, this tall young man with an estate and an interest in books and the country seems a sensible one, so of course he will want to write to you.”
Chapter Three
Lizzy,” her uncle called up from his library as Elizabeth and her aunt and sister were about to go into the drawing room. As they came down the stairs, he held out an envelope. “The gentleman you selected yesterday has signified that he would be glad to correspond with lady number seven in the second tier.”
It took her a moment to comprehend him. “He wants to write to me?” she cried, taking the letter. “Is this from him?”
“Was there any doubt that you would match?” Jane asked, grinning. “Any man of sense would want to know you better.”
Jane loved her so much that she believed any interest in her must be natural, but Elizabeth had doubted her lack of fortune would garner her any attention. “We must not be too excited. This gentleman likely wrote to every woman on the list who seemed to have all of her teeth.”
Jane refuted this, and then Elizabeth noticed her aunt looking at the envelope. “Do you want to read it first?” Elizabeth asked, holding it out.
“No, my dear,” Mrs Gardiner said, shaking her head. “I have been convinced the plan is reputable, and I trust you to have sense in what you say to this young man. Until you decide you want to meet him, you may write to one another in private.”
“Unless he writes something very romantic,” Jane said slyly. “Then we will all want to read it.”
“Not me,” said her uncle, and they all laughed. “Until I must return to that office and arrange a meeting with this gentleman, I want to know nothing at all about what the young lovers say.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks get hot. “I am writing to demonstrate that amiable, respectable, marriage-minded young men exist. I have no expectations beyond that.” She did privately hope that Jane might join the exercise, but she could not convince her to recover from her disappointment over Bingley. The only way was to show Jane by example.
She opened the envelope from the office in Bishopsgate to find another folded letter within, with nothing written on the outside other than “Ladies No. 7.”
“How amorous,” her aunt said, peering over her shoulder.
She was being teased. “The manager who arranges the correspondence wrote that. The gentleman and I do not know one another’s names or directions.”
Elizabeth admitted to herself that she was a little excited by the prospect of the plan truly beginning. Even though this matchmaking was only to help Jane, her heart gave a brief flutter at her choice selecting her, too. What if she really did find a man she could admire and esteem?
“Go on, then,” said Mrs Gardiner, smiling. “Go read it and sigh over it, and then write him back.”
Elizabeth composed herself to give her aunt a serious look. “There will be no sighing, nor tears, nor kisses pressed into my reply.”
Her uncle stepped aside and gestured that she should enter the library to read. When she was alone, she ran a finger over the plain seal. There was nothing to distinguish it, no coat of arms nor words pressed into the wax. She exhaled a deep breath and opened the envelope.
Friday, January 31
Dear madam,
I have never engaged in a scheme such as this, and have never allowed my friends to match me to any of their neighbours, sisters, or cousins. It is strange to choose a lady from a list, but it is done through a respectable business with attention to privacy. It is not as indelicate as I first presumed, and I see nothing wrong in the venture. At worst, it feeds imaginations with notions of romantic escape or social advancement.
And with that in mind, I must begin with the honest confession that I am not entering this business with the assumption or even the hope that I will find a wife. I have no immediate views to matrimony. I cannot engage in deceit or disguise, and I would not have you accuse me of making promises I am not currently willing to make. I am engaging in this business with a degree of doubt and under some duress from a well-meaning friend.
I am, however, open to writing to know you better. I suppose I will consider meeting you, although that is not at the forefront of my mind. I am writing to no other woman but you. I do not scruple to say that although this matchmaking enterprise is not an immoral one, it feels deceitful for any man to court multiple women at a time; and although this correspondence is not a courtship, it would go against my conscience to engage in an intimate correspondence with anyone other than you.
Your description struck me, particularly your claims of having a lively disposition, and I admit to some attraction to the idea of you having a playfulness of mind. None would say my manner is lively, and the best I can claim is being told my humour is droll. However, I will write genuinely and do my utmost to be as engaging a correspondent as I hope you will be.
If my unwillingness to immediately or perhaps ever offer any sentiments or promises does not disappoint you, I await your letter.
Your servant,
